Another Day
by Elise May
Summary: Shocking events in Weatherfield as young woman is slain. The victim, Kylie Platt, who was a resident of the area had been stabbed and left for dead on Coronation Street in the centre of Weatherfield. The killer has not been found.


**Another Day**

* * *

She likes to keep her eye on the news, but checking what is happening in the world has not always been of the utmost importance to her. After all, enough has been taking place in her own life, so much so that considering anyone else's has always seemed like too much for her. Too much of a weight; a burden. Compassion has never really been her strong point for that reason and perhaps for that reason alone.

She has this app on her phone. She's had it for years. Whenever something has happened locally, it's flashed. A notification has popped up and she has read it passively. A road accident here; the odd assault there. Carla wouldn't consider Weatherfield to be rife with crime, not when she compares it to the level she experienced back on her home estate. Granted, it's a far from quiet area. There have been fires and murders and violence - within each of which she has played a part of her own.

Thankfully, Devon isn't like that. Devon isn't like that at all.

But her phone doesn't seem to have registered that it is Devon she resides in now, sunny Devon with its calm beaches and cosy cottages and clean air to breathe in, to reflect in, to think and to dwell - but not to much.

 _LOCAL WOMAN MURDERED IN THE STREET_

 _Shocking events in Weatherfield as young woman is slain. The victim, Kylie Platt, who was a resident of the area had been stabbed and left for dead on Coronation Street in the centre of Weatherfield. The killer has not been found._

She doesn't know what to do. At first, it paralyses her, this knowledge she - selfishly - wishes she had never stumbled upon. It makes her think. Had she not found out for herself, would anyone have told her? She can't imagine Michelle or Maria or even Kate keeping something so big from her, even to spare her feelings of despair, grief and utter hopelessness. She knows that Bethany, sweet Bethany with her weekly updates and assurances to her Auntie Carla that she will remain exactly that irrespective of marital status or lack thereof, would not intentionally keep her in the dark. But things happen and circumstances change and she just wonders about Nick. Only Nick.

Had she not found out for herself, would Nick have told her?

Neither have been in contact with the other. Months of nothingness have passed between them and she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel empty as a result. Does she miss him? Yes. Does she wish things had turned out differently? Of course. She still loves him. She doesn't have it in her to stop. She knows it; he knows it. She just wonders, always wonders, how he is. How he is feeling, how he is feeling about her.

The fear and pride she had felt previously when it came to reaching out to him first disappears within an instant, replaced with an impulse, a reminder that life is short and anything can happen - and when it is least expected.

She drops him a text.

 _I've just heard the news. My condolences. Send my love to David and the kids._ (And to you. I love you.) _Please remember that I am only ever a call away xxx_

And she leaves it at that.

Not expecting a reply.

Not even wanting one.

Nick will have taken this news hard. So hard, but so quietly. He grieves in ways she's never quite understood. He's like her in that he buries how he feels, deeper and deeper and deeper until it's almost forgotten about. Feelings resurrected when it is too late to do anything about them. But he's not dramatic in the way that he mourns; he's calm. It unnerves her. He keeps busy, doing this and doing that, doing everything for everyone - but nothing for himself.

She's worried. Without the bistro to fall back on, how will he cope? Without the distraction of it, without immersing himself in the trivial dinner arguments of friends, family and strangers? Without feeling important, part of something bigger than him, bigger than his problems?

He has no bistro because she had no heart and she's not even there to put it right.

He'll play the good big brother now, she reckons. He'll be there for David and for the kids, for his mum and for Audrey if they need him to be. He'll sit with Sarah as the news is broken to her, the ward she is residing in familiar to a part of him he often dismisses, for hospitals scare him. Any talk about mental health scares him.

And he's so scared. So much so that he calls his wife - and that is who she is; he made sure of that and aren't regrets pointless if you can do nothing about them?

It's almost two in the morning and the drink isn't working. The music Carla often played to forget herself isn't working.

Blaming himself just hurts.

It's Kylie who has died. Kylie who he betrayed David with. He thinks of the years his actions took away from them, and now no one will ever be able to get them back.

He thinks he must be one of the luckiest bastards to ever live. He has nothing, but survives every time. Why not Kylie? Why not Ashley? Why not his dad?

"Sorry." Two whole months without him, when all she has longed to hear is the sound of his voice in her ear, and the first thing he does is apologise to her. Something inside her cracks. She knows that he's apologising for more than just the hour. She can tell by the weight of the word and she wonders if it always sounded like that when he directed it at her. Everything's a blur; sometimes she thinks she has forgotten everything, the way things used to be. And it hurts.

"I know it's late," he continues.

She can't not smile, as teary and shaky as she is. She feels closer to any human being than she has in weeks.

"Oh, I think half one is positively early by our standards."

He doesn't register the tease in her words, nor the suggestiveness. All he can think is _Carla, Carla, Carla_. It's easy to dismiss how much someone is missing and how much missing that person impacts on the lives of those left behind when the missing person isn't ever thought about for more than one moment at a time, the pain too great to process unless it is in short bursts.

The breath he takes is heavy. She feels it in her chest, her heart hammering away within it.

"I just…"

There are no words he can think to say and it panics him. Irrespective of the circumstance in which he is calling her now, he has rehearsed in his head all he has wanted to say to Carla every night before he sleeps. Some of it has been the truth, some of it has been outright lies - anything to make him feel better.

He'll do anything to feel better.

"I'm here," she whispers, hoping to reassure him. Her breath is shaky. "How are you?"

Stupid question, but then she _is_ stupid. Especially when it comes to Nick.

"David… He says he's coping, but I know him. He isn't. He wants to kill the bloke who did it and I don't blame him. If it was me, and some thug had killed…" _Me? Leanne?_ Carla hates herself for thinking in such a way, but she cannot pretend she hasn't heard the rumours, the gossip. She's even heard stories from Roy. That's how she knows she isn't imagining it. Nothing that she has been told has been exaggerated; it's been the truth.

She lets him speak.

"Lily doesn't know what's going on. Max is… confused. Right now, it's not sunk in and I just dread when it does because he'll never be able to recover from it."

Personal experience. She knows all about it. She also knows how Nick can't handle it.

"Hey." She hopes her voice is calming him because she can hear the sniffles and the muffles he is desperately trying to conceal. The fact he is trying to conceal anything from her at all makes her ache, though she'd be a hypocrite to call him out on it, the queen of concealment herself. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Truly, Nick, I am. But it's you I asked about. Darling." He can't breathe and neither can she. "How are you?"

A long pause. It's like she can hear him thinking.

"I'm fine."

Instinctively, she shakes her head.

"No, you're not. We both know what that really means."

His tired sigh comes as a surprise to her.

"Carla, I don't have the energy for games."

She's frowning. "Good. Because I'm not playing any."

Another silence ensues and she knows that if she doesn't carry on the conversation, it will end here. And she doesn't want that. She can't let that happen.

"Look, Nick." She takes a deep breath, not knowing how he will react to anything she has to say to him. "I know that you'll be thinking about your dad right now and that's perfectly alright. I don't mean to sound like some cheesy pop star or someone equally as cliché, but it's okay, you know. If you're not okay. What's happened it's… well, I don't even have the words. It's wrong. It should never have happened. You know, those kids have lost a mum. An amazing, kind, loving mother." She choses her words very carefully. "It's only natural that this, that a stabbing, will have brought back bad memories for you."

It's like when Erica lost her baby and all she could do was think of her own.

Nick has to clear his throat before replying.

"The kids." His voice breaks. "They'll never get over this. Max…" _He's just like me. He's just a scared, lost little boy._

"He's got David," Carla reminds him. "He's got you and Gail and Audrey and Bethany. He's got support and love and people who understand. Nick, you - more than anyone - understand. Talk to him. Explain a few things. He really needs you."

She speaks in a whisper. On the other side of the line, Nick feels emotionally drained. He's exhausted, having made this phone call because he can't sleep.

He thanks Carla for reminding him of what is important. "I know, I know. Thank you."

"Don't worry about it."

The spiteful part of him wants to assure her that _no, I won't._ But there is no spite left in his body. All he can think of is what he has lost, what he must get back.

Carla worries he has put the phone down because the silence stretches on for some time. But then he comes back to her, in a very strained voice, with, "They all think I've gotten over you, you know. And for a while, I kinda thought I had. But I haven't. I'm not even close. How could I be? I mean, how does anyone get over something like us?"

Her response is immediate, if not monotone. She doesn't want to get hurt again. "They don't." She pauses. "I don't. I haven't."

" _Please_." He is begging her and her heart is in her throat and she is so nervous as to what he is going to say next that she has difficulty breathing. "Carla, _please_ come to Kylie's funeral. I don't think I can do it alone and I know that that's selfish of me, especially after everything that's happened, but - "

"You won't be alone." She is short in her reply. All she think of is Leanne. "Besides, I don't think that's a very good idea, do you?"

He carries on regardless.

"But you and Kylie were mates, at least for a time. You were fond of each other."

Her heart is aching for too many reasons to count.

"Yes, we were. Very fond. But as you say, _for a time._ And that time is over now." _We are over now._ He doesn't have to say anything for her to know of his disappointment and frustration. "I'm sorry, Nick. I would come, but the last thing your family need right now is any more grief, let alone from me."

His voice is cold despite his tease of, "What's that I hear? Carla Connor, a coward?"

God, he could not be more right. Right in all but name.

"I know what I am, Nick." There are an endless number of names for women like her.

"Yeah. I like to think I do, too." He pauses his shaky voice, lets out emotion he cannot contain for a moment longer. "You're everything I need."

She feels faint, disbelieving of what she is hearing after so long.

"You don't mean that, Nick. You don't mean any of this" It is not just his voice that is shaking. Her whole body is a wreck. "It's just the grief talking. You want comfort and I am definitely not the right person to give it to you."

He is adamant. "You're my wife."

"But for how long?"

She swallows her tears.

"Carla." The way he says her name has not changed and it hurts, she hurts, he hurts. "Please come."

"I can't," she says thickly, voice full of regret.

"You can. You're just choosing not to."

Her freehand is pulling at her hair; a distraction.

"That's not fair," she replies.

"None of this is fair. Life isn't fair."

Sadness consumes her. He's right and she's wrong and she takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Well, you said it."

Nick closes his eyes, holding the phone closer to his ear, as if having her voice nearer to him will make him feel less alone and them less distant. "I'll give you the details of the funeral arrangements nearer the time. Maybe you'll change your mind. I don't know."

Carla smiles ever so slightly, his persistence warming what is left of her cold heart. It burns. She's really flattered. "I won't. I know I won't, but thank you for even considering me in all of this."

She hasn't even stopped speaking when he suddenly admits, "I should've rang you sooner."

This is about more than just Kylie or David or an invitation to a funeral he knew from the beginning she wouldn't attend. This phone call is an excuse. So many times, he has almost put himself in this situation. He has almost rang her number in the early hours of the morning, just to feel something. To see if his feelings have changed as much as everyone is telling him they have.

(They haven't changed. Nothing has changed.)

Carla doesn't want the subject to change. She isn't ready. "Why?" She is short with him. "Do we have anything to say to each other?"

"I have too much to say. I haven't said a word of it yet."

That terrifies her, heart leaping in her throat.

"I better go. Before you start something you can't stop."

 _Too late_ , he thinks. He accepts her abruptness with a note of appreciation.

"Thank you, Carla," he whispers.

"For what?"

"Letting me talk."

She rolls her eyes.

"Don't you remember what I said?" He does, but that was when the gods were punishing them, and she felt more important to him than any baby, and they were friends; definitely. Life has changed beyond recognition since then. He reckons the gods are having a good laugh at them now. "You know where I am, Nick. You know exactly where I am."

A dig in the softest of voices.

It's all a bit too much.

"I'm gonna go," Nick says.

"Okay." Her eyes are filling with tears yet again.

They have to steel themselves to say goodbye.

Nick plucks up the courage first.

"Goodbye, Carla."

Carla wipes at her cheeks. "Bye, Nick."

The line goes dead.

 _I love you_ is whispered into darkness.


End file.
